Die For Me
by diamond-skyfall
Summary: What would happen if Price died in Prague instead of Soap? Will Soap cope with the loss of his mentor? Will he able to make a good team out of the newbies? And what will happen when his bipolar sister is released from the hospital? Read to find out. AU
1. Prologue

**Hello dear readers! Thank you so much for considering reading this story! Don't worry, i WILL finish Smooth Criminal, i just felt that i'm in a nutshell with that one and i decided to write something new. I hope you enjoy, don't forget that this is just the prologue and more updates coming soon :)**

**WARNING: Swear words, character death and self-abuse**

_I always thought death will be different_

_I expected a great wave of realization to sweep over me_

_Suddenly, the meaning of life would be answered along with any other question I ever had_

_But there was nothing to realize_

_I was dead_

Soap opened his eyes, realizing that he fell asleep with Price's field journal still clutched in his hand. He was feeling light-headed as if someone drained him from any form of life. The weather outside wasn't helping either: the grey clouds covered the sky and there was no sign of the sun coming out anytime soon. The bed that helped him after so many tough missions was now feeling like rocks. Clumsily he tried to at least sit up and try not to feel so miserable.

_What was the point?_

He fell back on the hot pillow with a soft thump and closed his eyes. He tried to realize how everything became so messed up. He looked at the first page of the journal where Shepherd's quote was covered with the words 'KILL MAKAROV'. That pretty much answered everything. He traced his finger on the bloodstains that will forever remain in the yellow pages and felt sick again. He put the journal next to him and rubbed his eyes, trying to stop the new wave of tears that was incoming. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself and decided to switch the pillow sides. The other side was hot too.

_Fuck my life._

Knowing that the whole world was against him, he sat up from the bed and walked over to the mirror that was hanging in the corner of the room. The man that was staring back at him was so familiar yet so foreign. Soap punched the mirror, shards of glass flying against his body and floor, the entire mirror shattering. Blood from his knuckles dripped through the cracks, but it didn't hurt. It felt so numb on his hand. His light blue eyes stared into the same eyes through the cracked mirror, the anger gone, replaced with a hollow nothing that felt like it was going to make him crush in on himself.

He could easily treat the cuts by himself: just take out the glass pieces, wrap it and that's it. He must have seen Price deal with injuries like that all the time. He wished he could listen to Price lecture him for doing something purely idiotic and risky at their missions. He wished he could feel Price's stern look every time Soap instructed new soldiers. Like he was waiting for a mistake. And he always noticed one.

He took a bigger piece of the mirror and without thinking glided it over his wrist's pale skin, forming another crack. He dropped the weapon and ran his fingers along the line, feeling the blood coming out of it. His heart was beating faster and he wondered how more can he take. So he made another cut. Then another one. And two more. Soon enough his arm was completely covered in blood and his breathing had been coming out in waves.

He wished Price was still here.

He wished he died instead of Price.

He wished the cuts would hurt a little more.


	2. Trust

**__Hey there! This is the first official chapter for this story. I know it's kind of short, but it's only the beginning! I promise bigger chapters coming soon. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Don't forget to review ;)**

_Trust is a difficult thing, whether it's finding the right people to trust or trusting the right people will do the wrong thing. But trusting your heart is the riskiest thing of all. In the end, the only person we can truly trust is ourselves_

Ever since Price's death, everyone's been bugging Soap with questions. The routine was always the same:

_Don't worry. I'm fine. I'm better now. I'll be okay._

Everyone of course knew those were pure lies. Even though Soap was alive, he wasn't living. He had the first four stages of grief at once, causing him more pain than he ever had. The feeling of vulnerability matched with uncontrollable shaking and depression was constantly pulsing through his body. That was happening more and more often, lately. He didn't know what to do, but he would do anything to keep himself busy, moving, smoking, cutting, not thinking, never thinking, and barely sleeping.

Soap's bones were slow in healing, but the cuts on his arms and face were starting to fade. He noticed that he was taking less fascination with small things like Price's journal. He was starting to spend more and more time in the real world again. The team, or more likely, the remaining members, still wouldn't let him do any actual work. People stayed at a distance, especially any of the med staff, since Soap started a fight on the last check-up.

He even managed to drive away Yuri a few times, but he kept coming back like a kicked puppy. Then he would just drive him away again. Like a game with himself. He didn't know if he should be friendly to him or keep him away. He didn't know what to do. Everything felt too foreign for him. He still felt the knife of betrayal stuck in his back, but deep down Soap knew that Price would've let Yuri live. For now, at least.

For the last couple of days, Soap was feeling slightly better, emotionally and physically. Earlier he had to go identify Price's body since he was brought back from Prague. Since he had no family members left alive, Soap had to do it. But ever since he got the news that he had to write a funeral speech, his calm attitude and discipline went to hell. Every time he sat down at his desk and started scribbling, he would break down.

_What the hell do you even write in a funeral speech anyway?_

He wrote apologetic letters before to the families of soldiers who risked their lives for the country they loved, but this was way harder. He took a deep breath and wiped away the tears from his eye with the back of his hand. He remembered all those speeches Price used to give at their meetings when one of their teammates died. He usually started with their amazing qualities and a little bit of their life. He needed to figure out something since it was the night before the funeral, so he took a pen and started writing.

After many failed attempts and a bunch of crumbled papers lying all around the room, Soap finally finished his speech. He decided he would make some minor changes in the morning with a fresh head.

That night he couldn't even close one eye. He had little desire to go to his mentor's funeral. He knew that it was selfish, but he thought that if he wouldn't go, it wouldn't be true. He was awoken from his light sleep by an urgent knock on the door. Soap groaned and buried his face in the pillow.

"If you're not gonna open the door, I will smash it" came out a warning from the other side. Soap instantly recognized the Russian accent.

"Nikolai, the fuck you're doing here this early?" Soap greeted his friend once he opened the door.

"Good morning to you too, my friend. For your information, we leave in half hour." Then Nikolai finally took in his surroundings with wide eyes. "What happened here?"

Soap was confused by the question and looked at the room with fresh eyes. The sight wasn't the prettiest: there were papers thrown everywhere, bloodstains on the desk, carpet and walls, plus a broken mirror.

"Nothing happened, just a little outburst." Soap quickly replied. Without any more words, Nikolai retreated from Soap's room and went his own way. He was the first person Soap let into his apartment and he couldn't waste the opportunity to brag about it.

Once MacTavish was all ready and looking presentable in his suit, they were ready to go. Hereford wasn't far from Credenhill so the ride was quiet and uneventful. Since it was Price's funeral, they set out guards to secure the perimeter of the clocktower and the graveyard. Soap also had Price's pistol hidden in the inside pocket of his jacket, just to be safe. When they arrived there, the place was quite full. The news of _the _Captain Price's death flew around quickly and a lot of people came to pay tribute to the fallen hero. Even the press was there.

When they were inscribing Price's name in the clocktower, he couldn't hold back a couple of tears. He remembered joking with Nikolai and Yuri what an epic fail it would be if there was no more free space on the clocktower when they would die. Now he was sitting right next to them, probably in the saddest day of their lives, watching their captain's name appear there.

When everyone moved to the graveyard's church, everything turned into a blur for Soap, when he felt Nikolai elbow him in the ribs as a sign that it was the time for his speech. He was about to take the paper from his pocket when it hit him.

_I can't believe I forgot my speech on the table. They trusted me with one thing and I fucked it up._

Not wanting to disappoint his teammates and Price, he got in front of the crowd and said the beginning that he remembered.

"Death is a thief. It takes and it keeps everything a person was. And when death takes from us someone as extraordinary as Captain Price, it takes within not just his past but who he was to us every day."

He sighed, felling his emotions sweep over him like a tidal wave, "John Price was special, but he never had it easy: a childhood thorn from him, rough life lessons, losing people who were close to him and a damning identity that haunted him after he tried to save this world. But he always bore it with dignity.

When I remember Price, I remember a life lead with glory and fearlessness. He wasn't afraid to fight against people who terrorized peace. He was a role model and he always inspired the team to continue fighting for the good that's left in this world. He wasn't afraid to live. He also wasn't afraid to die." He paused, the stress getting the best of him, as he was sweating like crazy and tears were streaming down his eyes.

"Captain Price, all of us that are gathered here today have respected you and looked up to you and we will greet every new day as a gift, approaching it with the same bravery and determination with which you lived your entire life."

"I'm gonna miss you, old man" he whispered, as everyone walked out of the church.


End file.
